Lesson Plan

By Andrew Brezak

The clues to stopping a multiphase assassination plot against the president and his family are inside a high school lesson plan.

Renegade CIA operative Reid Mathews goes undercover in the unlikeliest placea high school in the president's hometown. When his ex-fiance and FBI Agent Kelly Casey's investigation of a US congressman leads her down the same dark path, they must work together to swiftly and tactfully untangle a political web of lies that stretch from Washington to Russia.

As people close to them begin to die, Reid and Kelly learn nothing is as it appears, and they will have to risk everything, face their haunting pasts, and repair their relationship or thousands more will die. Salvation is inside a lesson plan, but only if they can identify it in time. As they will learn, it's unlike anything ever taught inside a classroom.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Fulton Books, Inc.
• Release date: May 23, 2022
• ISBN: 9781637104774

Book preview

PART 1

1

At exactly 8:00 a.m. on a humid August morning, Reid Mathews sat down at the small deuce across the superintendent of Island Valley schools, Dr. Koenig, in the bustling Starbucks. Can I help you? the startled stranger asked Mathews.

Mathews took note of the superintendent’s initial reaction after showing him a Glock, which lay in an open duffel by his left foot. There was no panic, only a slight glare in the older man’s hollowed eyes; this articulated more than any profile could. Mathews hesitated. Not that he had anticipated barrels of sweat and hazy breaths from the older gentleman, but this was unforeseen. Not even one of the lines which cut across his aged forehead moved.

Mathews got right to work. He referred to his examination as the Danger, Tragedy, and Shock Test. He placed his phone up to the superintendent’s face.

Mute video.

Dr. Koenig immediately recognized it was a clip from inside his brother’s home. It was the first punch of Danger. Your brother is fine, Mathews said, pulling his phone away.

The superintendent attempted to gather himself as Mathews noted the result.

Tragedy. But he’ll be home soon. Scream or make a scene, and I will greenlight my partner who is waiting on his couch. Do you understand me?

Koenig nodded.

You have my word. Nothing will happen to your brother if you cooperate. Mathews raised up the screen again, but this time, there was a text message. I just press this button, and it sends my partner away.

Your word?

In return, Mathews said, I’ll make your next move. Am I clear?

The superintendent started to make the connection. Wait a second. You’re that teaching candidate. We met at the district office. Dr. Koenig’s eyes circulated the coffee shop. How long have you been watching me?

You come here every morning before heading to your office. It’s not why I chose your district.

Chose my district?

Mathews could not provide the answer right now, not aloud. If Island Valley was the next ground zero, then he needed to find the gatekeeper to open the door. Mathews had profiled every administrator, teacher, and janitor, and quite a few on the district payroll had been deemed reliable. But only Dr. Koenig could unlock America’s next foreign policy.

America can only be whole if Dr. Koenig can pass the test.

The point of Danger and Tragedy was to stretch his subject’s reflexes to the extreme, a Concorde flight from heaven to hell. In this case, from hell to another hell. Hours of preparation were about to be flushed down the drain unless Dr. Koenig could begin to deem himself dependable. Now Mathews needed to push his subject into Shock.

The professor continued to eye the phone on the table. Mathews said, I gave you my word. Do you not understand that?

The superintendent leaned over. Go fuck yourself.

You sure do have some set of balls, Dr. Koenig.

What do you want from me? Money? I have some of that. Tell me what to do. Let’s get this over with.

I must say, Dr. Koenig, I’ve grown to admire you. How you stood by your wife till the end. How you’re standing up to me. I want to be that man.

Tell me what you want.

Shock. I just wonder how you’ve lived with yourself for so many years after what happened to all those innocent children in that small village outside Saigon. Mathews followed up, It just builds and builds, doesn’t it? One giant ice-cold fucking snowball that just keeps expanding as it slides down that mountain of guilt year after year. How have you been able to live with yourself, Dr. Koenig? Mathews paused. You never even told your wife, did you? Certainly not your children. Mathews waited. "Now we both know who I work for."

Danger, Tragedy, and Shock unleashed inside a Starbucks on an unprepared and unsuspecting individual within the span of three hundred seconds. Look at you, Dr. Koenig. I see tranquility in your eyes. Just the idea that someone sitting across you knows your darkest secret seems to be easing you. You’ve been waiting for me.

The superintendent attempted to speak. You know some things. What does that mean?

Isn’t it obvious now why I’ve chosen you? Why you’ll help me?

I’m not sure.

It’s because very few would have had access to that classified Saigon file. Says a lot about me, doesn’t it? Let me be crystal clear once again. If you cooperate, your brother will not be touched.

It’s been decades since—

Then this must be quite important.

I see.

Mathews leaned back. I’m ex-military myself.

Not the type of military man I grew up with.

You’re correct. Your boys didn’t have to fight an enemy on our soil.

May I ask what is the CIA hoping to accomplish here inside a Starbucks, with a seventy-four-year-old educator?

I need you to keep HR from doing a background check.

You’re actually thinking I am going to hire you?

"But you will hire me."

If your plan was to bully me into this, why then even bother interviewing?

It was important that I showcased myself the old-fashioned way. And I know I’m your top candidate. One more interview. I could have just taken my chances. Mathews leaned back. The résumé I created speaks for itself.

Mathews continued to study the older man. Dr. Koenig was moving his eyes, almost in an attempt to work the room, and quietly scream for help. Let me assist you, Dr. Koenig. Behind us is a double line of douchebags waiting at the counter to overpay for a drink. One table over to your left, there’s a man in his thirties playing with his laptop. There’s a young couple on the couch probably heading to class at the university. And the background music, once you notice it, it can be maddening. But you can keep looking over to the man with the laptop if you choose. Mathews smiled as reality set in for Dr. Koenig. Did you just realize every loner at Starbucks has a pair of buds in his ears? Times certainly have changed, haven’t they?

I’m trying to be 100 percent cooperative with you. Please don’t hurt anyone.

Are you cooperating?

You should understand, I haven’t been approached by the CIA for a favor in decades. Or let me rephrase that, extorted by the CIA for decades. And I don’t even know who is sitting in front of me. Reid Mathews. Is that even your real name?

It is.

Okay, Mr. Mathews. Who are you going to kill at the high school?

I’m not a killer.

You’re the stage crew? Mathews said nothing. He waited. You mean to tell me you’re still actually believing I would hand you a class of your own?

You will.

Why don’t you just let me go home to my family? You go home to yours. This never happened.

I would love to just go home. But we have a job to do. Mathews paused. You must be wondering how it is I can be so sure that you won’t be even the slightest bit tempted to sneak to authorities.

The superintendent leaned in. Yes. I’m wondering how you know that.

Because for the very few, only for the elites, can Danger, Tragedy, and Shock bring peace of mind. And you’re one of them, Dr. Koenig. I couldn’t believe it myself. But here you are, right in front of me.

Well, you’re not as smart at profiling as you think, Mathews. Because if you think I’ll let you anywhere near my young students without you first having to put a round of bullets into my body, well, then you need to go back to profiling school or wherever it is that psychos come from because you can go fuck yourself.

The table seemed to vibrate from Dr. Koenig’s energy. Mathews studied the older man’s silver hair, thin mustache, and snug glasses. He then placed the folder containing America’s darkest secret on the table. The answer will be somewhere inside one of your high school’s lesson plans.

Inside a lesson plan?

Just open the folder.

The superintendent began to read the documents. Mathews watched the superintendent’s top right pocket; he knew inside it was a cloth.

These photos…how long have you been watching our school?

Doesn’t matter.

Koenig looked down again at the report. Oh my god.

Right.

Then tell me why I shouldn’t just cancel classes?

Because as you can clearly read, it won’t make one bit of difference.

Then how am I supposed to keep my students safe?

Mathews’s eyes became so piercing they penetrated Koenig’s to the point the older man needed to look away.

Dr. Koenig placed his glasses on the table and reached into his pocket for the cloth. This was something Mathews knew from his observations; the superintendent cleaned his bifocals when he was nervous. Mathews waited for Dr. Koenig’s next exchange. It would actually be the truest test of Danger, Tragedy, and Shock.

Mr. Mathews, I’m going to need you to be completely sensitive to the environment you’ll be entering. These are kids we’re talking about.

I get that.

No. No one can get it until they are in it. Dr. Koenig opened the folder again, then reread the documents a second time. Where do we go from here?

You treat me like you would treat any other new hire. You give me space to make mistakes.

The superintendent placed his drink up to his mouth but was reminded it was too cold. I’m going to walk up to the counter now, buy myself another coffee. Then I’m going to watch you exit. I’ll see you later for your final interview. The room will once again be full. He took a lengthy pause. But what I don’t understand is, you were our leading candidate all along. I was told you were knocking it out of the park. Why not just get the job and leave me out in the cold?

It doesn’t matter now.

But you and I both know this was the greater-risk approach.

Like I told you, I need you to keep HR from vetting me. There’s a fingerprinting process with the state.

That’s bullshit, and you know it. Dr. Koenig leaned in closer. You have the authority. You guys create aliases with proper documentation all the time.

What are you implying?

That you’ll need more from me. That this isn’t just about me getting you through the door. So what else will you be asking for?

Okay, Dr. Koenig, there will be more. Plenty more. And it starts with you giving me a personal tour of the facility.

You can get that from anyone. And you just said I should treat you like all the others. My natural reaction would be to never play favorites.

Take me down to the basement of the high school.

The basement. Why?

That Jones kid who committed suicide down there, I need to see it.

The Jones kid? Dr. Koenig looked around before leaning in. What the heck does that have to do with the safety and security of the president of the United States?

That’s enough for now, Mathews said. I’ll see you later for the interview. If there’s a tie, you break it. Now go ahead. Go up to that counter. Get yourself a hot drink. Dr. Koenig did not respond. And you should know you have a very relaxed air about you, Dr. K. It’s as if you were born to keep a secret. But do you know what else?

What?

You’re one of the few who run to the blaze. It’s just in your nature. Mathews stood up from his chair and pondered the results of his examination. He would have been more comfortable with a higher score from Dr. Koenig; he did, after all, reach for the cloth in his pocket. But this would have to do.

Tell me, Mathews, why are you interested in the Jones kid?

I can’t wait for my first day, Dr. Koenig. Enjoy the rest of the morning now.

2

The picturesque Washington skyline was glowing as a fleet of black town cars pulled up beside a silver limousine. The imposing driver stepped out of the limo and opened the passenger door for Jon Baron, director of the FBI. Waiting inside was National Security Director Manny Locke. Hello, Jon. Please join me.

The two exchanged a firm handshake. Hello, Manny.

Baron had sweater thick eyebrows and pitch-black razor-spiked hair, with a cleanly trimmed and dyed beard; he seemed to use it as a cover for his lengthy chin. His classical single-breasted suit was conservatively complemented with a tie that seemed to steal the red from the United States flag. Why don’t we start with telling me what’s going on with your guy?

Locke reached over to the bar and grabbed two rocks glasses. He filled them with ice. And which guy are you referring to?

Come on, Manny. You know I’m here about Mathews.

Mathews? And what does he have to do with me?

We’re going to pretend that he’s not yours?

He did some work for me when I was still CIA director. He’s also worked for you. You know his elite team never had an official home.

"Your position as national security director was established after 9/11 to coordinate intelligence and to brief the president. That’s when his unofficial team was assembled. Let’s not play games. I have a right to inquire why the hell a top asset is becoming a public school social studies teacher. He’s even more arrogant and obnoxious than his reputation, if that’s even possible."

With his massive hands, Manny Locke poured the scotch. The NS director certainly had the frame to match his alpha personality. Even at seventy, his shoulders appeared to be boulders squeezed inside a suit jacket. He groomed like a movie star with shiny, wrinkle-free olive skin tightly wrapped from his stout jaw to bold forehead. He handed one glass to Baron. Relax, Jon. Whatever Mathews is up to, he’s up to. He’s a patriot. We both know that.

I don’t think it’s a coincidence that this is the same town on Long Island where the president grew up.

Only Mathews can answer that.

I had a meeting with Lawrence Bishop, head of the secret service earlier. He’s also asking about Mathews. The president was thinking about scheduling a trip back there, maybe even make an appearance. How could they ever complete their prep work with your guy there, staring at their cameras?

That’s not the real issue here, is it, Jon?

Baron placed down the glass. Of course not, Manny. The real issue here is, why is such a skilled intelligence officer on that campus? Obviously, Bishop and I would not let the president of the United States walk into any potential danger.

Manny Locke looked out of the tinted window and at the beautiful Capitol building. We have a lot of responsibility, don’t we, Jon? We’re in charge of many people, important people, but America has no idea we even exist.

Manny, you may have wanted to be the kid in class who grabbed the teacher’s attention, but I like my role. And Reid Mathews is one of the best this nation has ever known at disappearing. Yet there he is, in broad daylight, hired to teach in a classroom. He’ll be walking the campus. He’s wide-open.

I see. And you’re correct, there is no one better than Reid Mathews.

My people inform me there is already a longtime asset within. Someone ranked high in that school district’s administration. I need you to confirm.

"I would have to talk to my people first about this other asset. But as far as Mathews, I don’t know what he’s doing."

I’ll go after your job, Locke, cried Baron. I’ll take this right to President Bayley that you are undermining the integrity of your own title.

Locke sipped at his drink. "I do understand I’m not the only one with Bayley’s ear and what kind of clout you bring. I also am aware the president is already mapping out his FBI restructuring. You’re learning what Big Auto did. This president is no different from the last. He would renovate any home if he felt necessary. I know you fear what’s coming down the pipeline and whether or not you’ll last to see the end. Detroit has been beautifully pieced back together, but I can assure you, the original men at the head are long gone."

Then you also know the most dangerous animal is the one who senses he’s cornered.

And here you are.

Baron sipped at his drink. My main concern continues to be this president’s well-being.

Locke studied his contemporary. It was typical of Jon Baron to bring a guns blazing approach. Locke, on the contrary, always found it beneficial to withstand the early fire, saving ammunition for that deal-breaking moment. If it’s indeed true that Bayley has ideas about replacing you, I’m thoroughly confident that you can make each of our existences pretty miserable in the meantime, but there will be no need to take this to dark places.

Don’t you think the president would be very interested to know that his intelligence head has not only allowed one of his best assets to go rogue but also that he never briefed him on it?

We have never had control over Mathews. His team was designed that way. Our country has been better for it. Locke sipped at his drink, licking the flavor from his top lip. How long have we known each other, Jon?

Everyone changes.

Locke questioned, "How come you never came to me about the letters PB, which are all over the Mathews file?"

Baron attempted to appear confused, but Locke knew he had him. He smiled as he watched each of Baron’s movements: the uneasiness of his lower lip, the rattle in his right wrist, the movement of his long open legs and feet as he began to shift uncomfortably in the seat. Locke had been waiting for his longtime ally to slip up. Finally, his opportunity to regain the tight space. "Come on, Jon, you went deep-sea fishing on this one without first getting my seal of approval. Anything Mathews related would be classified at the highest level. The Mathews file? No one gets access to that unless I want them to. Seems to me you haven’t been the one who’s been 100 percent up front. Is this something Bayley needs to hear about?"

As FBI director, I’ll read whatever it is I need to read. And I don’t need your blessing. Baron caught on, his large eyes began bulging, as did the veins in his neck. You’re telling me that file is a fake?

Enough in there is true.

"What do you mean by enough?"

I left a sufficient amount. I wanted you to know who he really is. I can still recall the first time I learned of him.

Special Forces.

Athletic enough to be a SEAL but moved behind the computer because they understood how rare his other skills are.

And that was when you grabbed him?

Locke smiled. Yes. And it was not the first nor will it be the last time I’ll be at odds within the executive branch. Back then it was your predecessor, ironically, Jon. The White House craved Mathews’s ability to gather intelligence for treaty negotiations.

What happened?

When I was CIA director, our agency plucked men from our armed forces for years, but this time, the door was suddenly closed on us. It piqued my interest. Who was this guy that the Navy would not let go? Who was this guy that the White House was after? Locke paused before raising his voice. But what really happened is what always happens. I eventually get my man, dead or alive. Mathews has been worth every speck of blowback that has come my way. I know you truly can’t comprehend the importance of the man who’ll be roaming that campus, Jon, and I understand it unnerves you as it does those beneath you within the FBI. The ghost hunter chases a phantom for years, but then all of a sudden, this phantom begins to surface on film. The ghost hunter is left trying to explain why. Manny Locke fastened his eyes on Baron’s. You know you need my confederacy, Jon. I wasn’t the one advising the president to restructure your organization, but I can be the one to advise him that you and I have a strong-enough working relationship that your head deserves to stay on its body. The next time you step inside my limo, please bring a bit more companionship.

So tell me, Manny, what does PB stand for?

Ah yes, the code PB used to refer to Mathews throughout the file. Manny Locke pointed at the White House. Who has the best view of the White House perimeter?

Baron did not waver. The snipers nested on top.

Exactly. And that’s the view we all have with Mathews. PB represents the Press Box. That’s where we sit. We watch him. We report.

The Press Box?

It sits above. Unnoticed. The best view. Enjoy it, Jon.

Baron’s eyes moved back and forth as he thought deeply, trying to piece it together. He really is allowed to be rogue, isn’t he?

It’s the only way a man like him can operate. Now he’s become a teacher. When he’s ready to share, he shares.

The file also noted a relationship between Mathews and one of mine.

Yes, FBI Agent Kelly Casey.

Baron paused, taking a moment to reflect on why Locke would have felt the need to plant that in the file. She is in white-collar. I asked around. Those two have worked rather hard to keep their relationship quiet.

It’s what he does. Controls environments. And he trusts no one.

Jon Baron placed his drink back into the cup holder. He relaxed his tone. Well, Lawrence Bishop and the secret service have asked me to report back to them about Mathews. Returning home is important for the president, and they need a course of action. Our agencies have nothing to report about a terror risk or any plot, nothing from our allies. Still, I’m going to go with my gut here and advise Bishop to advise the president to stay away from there for now.

Jon, you do whatever you think is best. I’ll never tell you how to do your job. Locke crossed his legs. I wonder how Mathews will do on his first day of school. Maybe play a game with the kids.

Baron shook his head. I’m glad this is some fucking joke to you.

Locke sipped at his drink. Can I offer you a cigar?

Baron gave a soft knock on the window. The door opened. Good evening, Manny.

3

Mathews entered Island Valley High School through the D Wing entrance. It was hard not to notice the shiny tiled floors from the fresh coat of wax. There was music from the custodians down to the left, their equipment sitting out in the middle of the walkway. Two teachers in T-shirts and shorts were talking down the hallway to the right. Mathews wiped his brow. Still two days before faculty was scheduled to report and three days before the first official day of school, the old building was boiling from the summer heat.

Mathews walked past the cafeteria, a large space with picnic-type tables and two exits in the rear. Farther along, he saw that the librarian was in early as she sat behind her desk on the other side of double doors to the library, which was more than likely air-conditioned. As he continued to roam, he made sure to avoid a conversation with his new principal.

The downstairs faculty door was open, and he peeked in. Also air-conditioned, as expected, teachers were around the copy machine. Mathews returned to the D Wing stairwell and followed the steps up to D213.

Mrs. Mizowsky?

Yes?

Hi. I’m Reid Mathews. I received your message to meet today. We’ll be working together?

Oh yes, Reid. Congratulations on the job. I was so happy to hear that I wouldn’t be getting someone fresh out of college.

Well, here I am.

Angela Mizowsky wore heavy makeup even on a casual day, signaling to Reid an attempt at legitimacy. Her shoulder-length dirty blond curly hair was frizzing from the humidity. The heavyset woman then wiped her sweaty palm on her shorts before reaching out to shake. Sorry, I’m sweating my butt off already.

Reid smiled and shook her hand. It did feel like I walked into an oven.

Welcome to public education. See that computer over there? Try not to let it frustrate you, but it’s very slow. Prepare yourself, Reid. This is a big change from that corporate world I’ve been told you’re from. We’re lucky to even get supplies.

It won’t be a problem.

Sounds like a guy just happy to get an opportunity.

Yes, I am.

How many interviewed? Did they tell you?

No. But that first day, there were two lines out the door.

My husband is on the board. I heard it was very competitive.

Reid pointed to the floor. The entrance, a set of double doors, was directly below on the main level. Pretty easy to get in and out of this place, isn’t it?

Please don’t get me started with this place. There are supposed to be all these new security protocols this year, starting with new traffic patterns. And they promised they’d finally be securing all the entrances. I guess it’s a wait and see. I do hate the feeling of being a sitting duck in this room.

Reid took note of the number of desks—five rows with six chairs in each—and the thickness of the door. I have to admit, Mrs. Mizowsky—

Angela.

Angela. I have to admit, I’m really anxious to begin with as a new teacher and all, but I never expected my first year would be teaching with a special education teacher in an integrated class. I’m really nervous. I don’t want to let you down.

Hiring on practically the last day seems to be the norm in this business, and then they go ahead and throw a newbie into a collab class without warning. Yet they say they care about the kids. My ass. She smiled. But don’t worry, you’ll do great. And I’m super easy to work with. I only have an average of eight on my rosters. The rest of the kids are yours. You can lead at any point. Please make mistakes. I won’t judge. And it’s US history. They learned it in middle school. How hard can this be, right?

Okay, that makes me feel better. But even though I’m new, like you said, I’m not fresh out of college. I do have kids in school two towns over, and I have a pretty strict philosophy on education. I think it’s what won them over.

Like what?

Like I am going to really want us to differentiate our assessments.

Already there. You’re talking to the queen hater of the traditional multiple-choice test.

And I want to take chances with our lessons, differentiate the modalities as well. Let’s reach them all. Let’s do as many projects as we can get in, and lots of visuals. That’ll also be important to me.

It’s like you read my mind, Reid. Been profiling me or something?

Mathews laughed. Should be an outstanding partnership then. Oh, by the way, do you think you’ll have a chance to give me a tour of the place?

You want me to drop dead of sweat?

There was a knock on the door. Hello. Am I interrupting? It was Dr. Koenig.

Angela stood up tall. No, not at all. Come in, Dr. Koenig.

Reid, how are we settling in?

So far so good.

Mind if we chat for a minute?

Reid followed Dr. Koenig out to the hallway but made sure to look back at Angela, who made a face.

The two men entered an empty classroom. Reid closed the door. Dr. Koenig’s hands appeared to be shaking. You should know I received a call this morning from an official from the secret service. The president will be coming to visit the community and they’re alerting all public organizations in the area. But you knew this call would come, didn’t you?

A call from one of Lawrence Bishop’s men already. But Mathews knew there was no way the president would still be coming to town now that he was here at this school, and there was no truth that any other organizations received the same phone call. Bishop’s forte was always to huddle deep below the White House when times get tight; he leans on his bunker temperament. It goes back to the war. No, this was nothing more than a message, most likely from NS Director Manny Locke to let Reid know he was watching.

You okay, Dr. Koeing?

I’m sure you can imagine how busy we are right now. All the stress.

But that’s not why you look so unsure.

Of course not. You think I’ve been able to sleep? You better know what you’re doing, Mathews.

I’m going to need that stoic gentleman who sat in front of me at Starbucks. The one with the balls of steel.

Koenig said, I’ve been around enough guys like you before. You think Saigon was supposed to go down the way it did? Guys like you are in control one second, thinking they have it all figured out, but then, in an instant, blood on our hands.

There will not be blood on either of our hands.

In Vietnam, one second you were lighting up a cigarette, the next it was your friend that was on fire. Guys like you, you only know how to prevent. You think you’re smart enough it’s bred inside your egos, but if you lived through Vietnam—

I can’t have you unhinged.

You have no idea what it has been like to live with Saigon on my conscience all these years. Living alone with those sounds. The smells. The children. And now there are these children in my district. And again, I am stuck in neutral, handcuffed. The devil must be enjoying the irony.

Reid took a peek out into the hallway to make sure it was clear. You put me with another teacher? One whose husband is on the board?

How the hell else was I supposed to keep an eye on you? The faculty doesn’t want a superintendent walking their halls every day, peeking into rooms. It doesn’t look good. They don’t want a micromanager, and I don’t want to be one. Besides, now I have another adult in your room until I know more about where this is going.

How did I do on the last interview?

Dr. K sat down in the teacher’s chair. "Like the rest, you